


will you be my future or just an escape

by PoemIsDead



Category: A Heist With Markiplier, A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: I have no self control, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sex Toys, but mostly it's about The Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: Illinois is married to the work, of course. That doesn't mean he can't enjoy himself a little on the side.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Mark Fischbach, Yancy/Illinois
Comments: 33
Kudos: 283





	will you be my future or just an escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bi_Duckling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bi_Duckling/gifts).

> Hi, Mark Edward Fischbach stole my kneecaps with that Heist.
> 
> No, but seriously, [Bi_Duckling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bi_Duckling/pseuds/Bi_Duckling) chucked this idea into my lap last night and I lost all rational thought for several hours while I wrote this. It has not been thought through, I had not considered this pairing before this, none of this is planned, and it probably shows.
> 
> Huge thank you to [Xpouii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xpouii/pseuds/Xpouii) for your incredible patience with me slamming the breaks on your piece until I could finish this. I promise I will have it done soon <3

"Easy," Illinois purred, leaning back to take a good long look at the picture he'd made for himself. His thumb traced idly over soft, tanned skin, pressing carefully into the little jut of hipbone he could feel shifting under his grip. "Easy, doll."

"Easy, yeah, yeah," Yancy gasped, and Illinois couldn't stop the curl to his smile as he watched the man's head roll back against the pillow, collarbone shifting under pretty skin as he arched his back. "Easy, I'm easy."

Illinois laughed at that, fingers digging deeper into yielding skin as he held the man's hips down and watched him writhe. He really was pretty like this, laid out like a prize on the dark sheets, lean, work-hardened muscle twisting in interesting ways as he tried to keep still like Illinois had told him to. Which he wasn't doing a _great_ job at, but that's what the thin lines of leather strap were for, lashing his wrists to the ornate headboard with just enough slack to let him work his arms.

Because boy wasn't _that_ a sight. Yancy wasn't a pretty boy, some kid working out in the gym every day to get those squishy water-balloon muscles. No, he had _working_ muscle, the kind you got from a simple diet and hard work, the kind Illinois had learned quick was the only kind worth any salt. He was hard and rough and wiry, and young in heart instead of in boyish cheeks, and Illinois had been hooked quick.

Which had been awkward considering he'd met him while the guy was out on a prison work detail, but the details weren't important. What _was_ important was the way he was panting and straining and trying to roll his hips in Illinois's grip, which was _exactly_ the way Illinois wanted him.

"You _are_ easy, aren't you?" Illinois asked mildly, his voice a low drawl that hid just a hint of genuine surprise. Not that he thought that was a bad thing in the slightest, it was just . . . well, he hadn't expected the stereotypical tough-guy facade to fall away so _beautifully_ into this perfect submissive panting mess.

Yancy didn't answer, eyes shut and mouth open, and Illinois wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't actually heard him. He had a lot to be distracted by, to be fair.

"Look at you," Illinois mused, letting go of one hip in favor of running his hand up the man's side, feeling the expanse of his rib cage as it rose and fell with his labored breaths. His fingers ran over smatterings of prison tattoos, some faded, some fresh, most with meanings he didn't know. "Aren't you just a mess."

Yancy's eyes cracked open at that, searching blearily for a moment before they fixed on his face, emploring and open and honest.

"_Noisy_," Yancy whined, and Illinois's gut flipped pleasantly at that. It was a stupid nickname, and he wasn't particularly fond of hanging around people long enough for them to start giving him stupid nicknames, but . . . well, with the accent it wasn't like it was _awful_.

Kind of adorable, really.

"Okay, okay," Illinois laughed, voice low as he reached out for the remote he'd tossed into the sheets. Yancy's eyes flickered to watch, throat bobbing sharply as he swallowed and Illinois could practically see the pulse throbbing in his neck as his breathing picked up. "Now you remember to stay _still_ . . ."

He didn't bother finishing the sentence as he turned the dial on the remote up, knowing it was _absolutely_ a lost cause from the beginning as the low hum of the vibrator picked up in the quiet room. And it was pretty clear Yancy wasn't actually listening to him, not with the loud keening drowning out everything else.

Illinois leaned back and just _watched_ for a moment. This was the best part. This moment when everything started falling away, when he could practically see all coherent thought melting out of his partner's brain. Sometimes it was when he first got fingers inside them, sometimes it was when he got a hand around their neck. Sometimes all he had to do was tie them down and he could see that glaze starting up over their eyes.

Yancy had held on for a good while, to be fair. But oh, was he falling apart now. His carefully greased hair was a mess, falling in stiff fingers over his eyes, and his skin had picked up a lovely pink hue from his chest up. He'd wrapped both hands around the leather straps and was tugging, more holding on than trying to get free, and his arms were shaking with strain that just looked delicious, if he could use some poetic language for a moment. He looked positively sinful and absolutely helpless, and Illinois couldn't be more pleased with his snap decision to take the guy with him all those weeks ago.

"Yancy," Illinois chided softly, trailing his fingers back up his side again until he was pressing against his collarbone, drifting towards the pretty arch of his neck.

"Sorry," Yancy gasped, but it came out more a garbled mess of accent and stuttering, prompting another low laugh from the adventurer.

"You're supposed to stay still," Illinois reminded him, letting his palm press down lightly over Yancy's Adam's apple.

"I know, 'm- 'm tryin' real hard, Noisy, I am-"

"Mmmm," Illinois hummed, squeezing slowly, just enough pressure to _tease_ but not actually choke, and he was rewarded with a reedy moan from the man under him, vibrating directly against his palm. "What am I going to do with you?"

"C-, come on, please, 'm _tryin'_," Yancy whined, arms shaking as he tried to hold himself still even as his hips ground down on the toy inside him. Illinois reached down to grab him by the hips with both hands again, forcing them flat against the bed with his weight, knowing by the appreciative flutter of the other man's hazy eyes that the button-up shirt he was still wearing was stretching appealingly around his arms.

"If you keep moving like that, you're going to ruin all my planning," Illinois murmured in a low melodic tone, giving Yancy a sly, secret smile as he pressed his thumbs into his hipbones. "And trust me, doll, you'll regret that."

He'd meant it as a teasing threat, a hint of danger to spike the con higher, push him further into that absolute mess Illinois loved seeing him as. But instead, something in the other man seemed to uncoil, the tension in his body slowly easing as he sank further into matress, back arching gracefully before he sighed, long and loud, and looked up at Illinois from behind lowered lashes.

"Yeah," he breathed, pretty brown eyes honest and open. "I do, I trust ya Noisy."

Something in Illinois's gut tightened sharply, coiling up in a ball of something he had no name for, and he had to take a moment to swallow. That was . . . that wasn't what he'd meant. He wasn't looking for trust, not that kind of trust, not from Yancy with those honest eyes and open face, _god_, okay, maybe he fucked up.

Illinois knew better than that. He didn't do relationships, not on that level. He was married to the job, and it was a _dangerous_ job. It needed his full attention, him and him alone, no loose ends tying him up in knots that would get him caught in a thousand traps. He knew better than to stick around long enough to let _feelings_ happen, and the paltry few weeks he'd had Yancy tagging along shouldn't have been long enough to let that happen.

But even as he thought it out logically, he knew it didn't matter. Not with the way the other man was looking up at him. Not with those bright, trusting young eyes, that earnest expression, that heartbreaking face just waiting for whatever Illinois wanted to do to him.

He trusted Illinois not to hurt him.

And Illinois was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he wouldn't. _Couldn't_.

"Okay, Yance," he murmured softly, reaching up to brush a strand of dark hair out of his face. "Hush, doll, I'm gonna take care of you."

Yancy sighed at that, turning his face into Illinois's hand and pressing up into his touch, like he couldn't get enough of it, and something in Illinois's chest tightened, and then unfurled. This . . . well, this was fine. In this moment, he could take this. Give Yancy what he needed. Deal with the fallout later. For now, he could be exactly what Yancy needed him to be, what he promised himself he wouldn't, and maybe after all of this he could examine it all with a clear head.

"_Noisy_," Yancy breathed again, and Illinois let himself follow that long-ignored little urge and lean up on his knees to press an open-mouthed kiss to his jaw.

"Eyes open," Illinois commanded softly, his fingers catching Yancy by the jaw and forcing him to look at him. "Eyes on me."

And then that wicked little grin hooked up his lips, crooked and charming and just barely tempered with soft edges, and he winked at the man sprawled under him.

"And do try to stay still this time, doll."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](https://poem-is-dead.tumblr.com/) for all those juicy juicy art reblogs.


End file.
